Solstice
by Kagedtiger
Summary: [Left Hand of Darkness] Sorve journeys to meet the kemmering of his dead father, and finds Ashe deep in mourning. But from the death of the old, something new grows.
1. Chapter 1

Solstice  
Chapter 1 

------------------  
**Notes/Disclaimer: "The Left Hand of Darkness" belongs to Ursula K. LeGuin. And an excellent piece of work it is. I am making no money from this work. **

**The title is supposed to be a kind of subtle reference to the fact that at the winter solstice, the daylight starts coming back, even though the story doesn't really take place around the winter solstice. ; Not that anyone would possibly come up with that on their own without me having to explain it. Ah well. Hooray for esoteric-ness. **

**Kharidish Glossary:  
amha - parent in the flesh (mother) (although I will occasionally use "father" in place of this term)  
kemmer - the stage in the Gethenian sexual cycle, when the beings become sexually active and develop a gender for a set period of time, generally a few days  
kemmering - lover  
secher - stage 1 of kemmer, hormonal release  
thorharmen - stage 2 of kemmer, establishing a sexuality  
Handara - a religious community  
Handaratta - inhabitants of the Handara**

**I know I fudged the ages a bit in this. Technically, Korcha and Sorve should be ten years apart in age at the VERY least, according to the novel's timeline. But I'm choosing to ignore that and mess with the ages a bit. I'm assuming that Korcha is around 17 or so. Call it poetic license. :P **  
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It's snowing. Spring has come, supposedly, and the Thaw has already started in the neighboring regions, but not here. Here winter still clings to the city with claws, lingering behind, clutching hold for dear life, as though it is afraid to move on. I find myself as I often find myself these days, sitting in a chair by the window, watching the large white flakes float silently downward, burying the world.

I touch my hand to the cold metal of the golden necklace around my neck. It's been five years since it happened. In the three years before, even though we were apart, I still had him, in a way. I was true to him, the necklace of the Celibate adorning my throat. It was easy to be chaste, with the thought that one day, maybe, he would come back to me. Nevermind that I had been the one to leave him; that had only been a physical absence. He had been the one to leave in truth. In his eyes, in his expression, he was never there. Always far away, too far for me to reach. Maybe he had always been like that, and I simply blinded myself to it. But he loved me once. I know, in his own way, that he loved me.

It's so much harder now, these past five years, since he died. I try to live my daily life, but this necklace mocks me. I keep waiting for the healing to come, but it never does. Every night that I sit here and stare out the window it is as though it was only yesterday that I sat at his funeral, (held in Estre, of course, where they did not call him traitor) and watched as they put his body to rest forever.

Perhaps I should be mourning for more than that. Perhaps I should mourn the three years before, or the seven before that when we loved each other and were not one. There was always a piece of himself that he could never share with me. There was always a hidden pain, a former love, that was sacred to him, so sacred that not even I could tread there.

Oh Therem, how I miss you! I wanted to take that ache to me, hold it against my heart and take it from you, keep it to myself so that you could be free. Can you believe that I simply wanted happiness for you? We were happy, weren't we? If only briefly? Surely our two children attest to that. And... and even if it was a false vow, a second vow, you _did_ vow to me, Therem. And I believed it. My heart was truly and will still always be yours.

"Amha?"

The soft, hesitant voice pulls me away from my reveries. Korcha. I hastily wipe away the few tears that have arrived to keep me company; I do not want my eldest son to worry about me.

When I turn to face him, however, I see that it is useless. He looks at me with mournful, pitying eyes. It is sad that such a young man as my son, who has not yet entered kemmer, should be exposed to such sadness. If only Therem were still here. If only...

"Yes, Korcha?"

"Amha, are you..." He is hesitant. "Are you alright?"

In spite of my sadness, his concern makes me smile. "I am fine, Korcha. No need to worry about me."

He does not look convinced. "It's late," he says. "You should probably be getting to bed."

"I could say the same for you." I raise my eyebrow at him. "Who exactly is the child here, Keercha?" It is my nickname for him, what I called him when he was a child. I can see that it works as intended when he becomes embarrassed.

"I'm just trying to look out for you," he mumbles, his face flushing.

I sigh and stand, kissing the top of his head lightly. "I know, child. Bless you for it."

I am about to assent that we should take to our beds when there is a knock at the door. Odd. It is a bit late for visitors. I call out, "Enter!"

The man who opens the door is a lean, handsome youth, about 24 or 25 by the look of him. He shakes the snow off his shoulders and ducks inside quickly to get out of the harsh weather.

"Greetings," he says. "I know it is late, but I would like to request hospitality of you."

"Of course," I say, then pause. There is something odd about him, in the way he holds himself, or in his particular energy... Oh.

"You are in kemmer?" I ask.

"Ah, yes." The stranger looks slightly sheepish, and I can't help thinking that there's something more to him that I feel, something beyond the kemmer state. He seems familiar somehow.

"I apologize," the stranger continues. "I had hoped that I would be finished with my kemmer by the time I arrived, but this modern transportation is much faster than I anticipated, and I arrived early. I will find a kemmerhouse tomorrow, but for tonight I would simply like to rest."

"Of course," I repeat. This does present a bit of a difficulty though. Normally I would simply lay out a bed for him in my own room. But I will soon be in kemmer myself, and I do not wish to create any awkward sort of situation. Even if he weren't far too young, I am a Celibate, and there is no way I could give him satisfaction.

Well, it's solved easily enough. "I will lay you a bed in Korcha's room," I say. "He is young, not yet entered kemmer. It should work out nicely."

"I thank you," he says, inclining his head in gratitude. Once again I catch a flash of something familiar, perhaps in a line of the profile, or the way he moves his shoulders.

"I don't believe you gave us your name, friend," I point out. "I am Ashe Foreth rem ir Osboth, and this is my child of the flesh, Korcha."

"Ah, yes." He looks back up and meets my eyes steadily. "I am Sorve Harth rem ir Estraven."

My breath catches in my throat. I recall him now. I saw him briefly at the funeral, though I did not speak to him. Therem's other son, his child of the flesh by his brother. Why is he here?

"I wished to meet you," he says in answer to my unspoken question. "But there will be time, perhaps, to explain everything tomorrow. It is rather late."

"Of course," I say once again, faintly.

Korcha has been standing beside me all this time, looking curiously between myself and our guest. Finally his curiosity gets the better of him and he asks, "Amha, who is this man? You seem to know him."

"Ah." How to explain? I look down at him, my dear son. "Korcha, this is Sorve. He is Therem's other child, your half-brother."

Korcha looks up at the newcomer in surprise. "Brother?" he asks.

Sorve smiles and nods. "Indeed. And apparently we are to share a room tonight."

"Oh!" Korcha takes the hint and plays the good host. "I'll show you to the room, then, and lay out your bed. Is that alright, Amha?"

I nod and wave them off. "Yes, please do. I will retire to my own room, I think. You are right, it is late." I nod to them. "Praise the darkness and creation unfinished," I say.

They nod in response and remove themselves to Korcha's room.

I feel suddenly weary, deep within my bones. My heart aches. It ached enough already without the past returning in the flesh to haunt me. I must sleep well tonight, for who knows what tomorrow will bring.

Next Chapter

Oh God, that was hideous. Take me back.   
or  
Oh God, that was hideous. Let me complain to the author.


	2. Chapter 2

Solstice  
Chapter 2 

------------------  
**Notes/Disclaimer: "The Left Hand of Darkness" belongs to Ursula K. LeGuin. And an excellent piece of work it is. I am making no money from this work. **

**The title is supposed to be a kind of subtle reference to the fact that at the winter solstice, the daylight starts coming back, even though the story doesn't really take place around the winter solstice. ; Not that anyone would possibly come up with that on their own without me having to explain it. Ah well. Hooray for esoteric-ness. **

**Kharidish Glossary:  
amha - parent in the flesh (mother) (although I will occasionally use "father" in place of this term)  
kemmer - the stage in the Gethenian sexual cycle, when the beings become sexually active and develop a gender for a set period of time, generally a few days  
kemmering - lover  
secher - stage 1 of kemmer, hormonal release  
thorharmen - stage 2 of kemmer, establishing a sexuality  
Handara - a religious community  
Handaratta - inhabitants of the Handara**

**I know I fudged the ages a bit in this. Technically, Korcha and Sorve should be ten years apart in age at the VERY least, according to the novel's timeline. But I'm choosing to ignore that and mess with the ages a bit. I'm assuming that Korcha is around 17 or so. Call it poetic license. :P **  
------------------

Korcha shoots me several sidelong, curious glances as we walk down the hall to his room. He is a slight boy, young and handsome, but very soft and fragile-looking. He takes greatly after his amha, Ashe.

Finally his curiosity gets the better of him and he asks, "Are you really my brother?"

I smile and nod, saying nothing.

He breaks into a very wide grin. "I didn't even know I had a brother. Besides Rendek, I mean. This is kind of exciting."

"I didn't know I had a brother either," I say, "until Ashe came to my flesh-father's funeral. I know very little about my amha; he left me in the care of my grandfather when I was very young. I was hoping Ashe could tell me about him."

Korcha's grin fades, and he turns away from me to get a mattress and some heavy blankets out of a hall closet. "I'm not sure Amha will talk to you. The issue is... painful for him."

"It is painful for me as well; Therem was my amha," I remind him. "Perhaps it would help him to share the pain?"

"Perhaps." Korcha turns back to me, a wistful expression on his face. I feel a soft concern for his father from him, it radiates away like energy, a feeling of compassion and melancholy. Then suddenly he breaks into a smile again and the sadness is gone, though the energy still lingers. "Come on," he says, and inclines his head towards a door to his left.

As he has his hands full, I open the door for him and we enter a small, cozy little room. He lays down the mattress and blankets next to his bed and arranges them. While he works, I look around the room. It is plainly furnished, with little more than a desk, chair, and bed, but little trinkets and scraps of his life adorn much of the walls and surfaces of the room. On one corner of his desk is a little wooden figurine, carved by the looks of it by someone from the Handara. A piece of paper is fastened to the wall above the desk. Upon closer inspection I realize with a start that it is a letter written by my amha, to Korcha. I skim through it, but it is simple and polite, not like the thoughtful, deep letters that I received from him.

Korcha, finished with his work, looks up to find me reading. "That was a letter from Therem," he says. "I was very excited to get it; we didn't often get letters from him. That one was my favorite, so I put it up. I still have the others though, if you'd like to read them. As I said, there aren't many. Fewer than ten. It shouldn't take you too long."

I think of my desk at home, of the drawers containing a select few of the dozens upon dozens of letters written to me by my amha, letters so much deeper and full of emotion than this simple one tacked to the wall. "Perhaps," I answer softly. Already I have learned something new about my amha.

Korcha crawls into his bed and snuggles childishly under the covers. He is shivering slightly, though it is not that cold. For all that it is still snowing outside, it is spring now, and the Thaw should be here soon. "Goodnight, Sorve," he says.

"Praise the darkness and creation unfinished," I reply. And we sleep.

I wake in the middle of the night to sounds. Moaning and whimpering noises issue from Korcha's bed, as though he is caught in a nightmare. "Please," I hear him mumble. "Please, please, oh please."

I sit up in the darkness and wait for my eyes to adjust, then kneel at the side of the bed. Korcha is tossing and turning fitfully, his blankets twisted about him in complete disarray. I reach forward tentatively, placing my hand on his wrist. "Korcha?" I call.

His eyes snap open, and too late I recognize the jolting, fiery sensation from our contact; he is in kemmer.

But how? Didn't his amha say that he had not yet entered kemmer?

But he is of about the age... Oh no. This... this must be his first...

I draw my hand back, but he reaches out after it quickly and grabs my wrist. Again I feel the fire of the contact, swimming deliciously into my veins. Belatedly I realize that the energy I felt from him earlier must not have been purely emotion but his secher. Perhaps it is slightly weaker for being his first, and that is why I did not recognize it.

He closes his eyes, hand still locked about my wrist. "Feels good," he murmurs.

I look at him carefully. "You realize you are in kemmer?" I ask.

He nods, eyes still closed.

"Is this your first?"

Again, he nods. Damn. I am not sure my host would appreciate it if I had sex with his virgin son, especially on my first night at his hearth after we've barely been introduced. Not that most families place too much emphasis on the first kemmer or the corresponding kemmering, but it is a bit of an... event. It marks the transition from child to man. And I'm sure Ashe would prefer to be certain that the first lover of his son would be someone who will be gentle and forgiving with him.

Well, it seems that I shall simply have to do my best. From the look in his eyes, open once more, there will be no delaying this. And I cannot deny my own body's need either.

With a sigh I stand and break the hold of his hand about my wrist. He whimpers slightly and looks lost, but then smiles happily as I untangle the blankets from around his body and slip under them next to him. I lie behind him, our bodies pressed flush against each other, and the fire burns intensely between us. It will take a few hours of this contact before we are in full kemmer, so I stroke his cheek and murmur soft encouragements of sleep into his ear.

Before he drifts off he gropes sleepily for my hand, like a child seeking comfort, and entwines our fingers.

We make love the next morning soon after we wake, passionately but quietly so as not to disturb the still-sleeping household. I awoke as a full male, and he as a female. He makes a beautiful woman; all his softness is put to good use, delicate features accentuating sudden curves and a soft, supple body. He feels good in my arms, pressed against my body, housing myself inside him. He is young, new to this, innocent, so I try to be careful with him. But I can tell that the experience is overwhelming for him, almost too much for him to bear. First kemmer is often like that.

When we finally finish it is still early and the rest of the household still asleep. I pull the blankets around us in preparation for further sleep. I have little doubt that I will be in this bed for much of the next few days; I have no desire to force young Korcha to switch kemmerings in the middle of his first kemmer. But for now we can rest up a bit; there will be plenty of time for more of this.

Korcha leans his body against me and cups my face in his hands, planting soft kisses at either corner of my mouth. "Thank you Sorve," he says, "Brother."

And once more we drift off.

Previous Chapter I Next Chapter


	3. Chapter 3

Solstice  
Chapter 3 

------------------  
**Notes/Disclaimer: "The Left Hand of Darkness" belongs to Ursula K. LeGuin. And an excellent piece of work it is. I am making no money from this work. **

**The title is supposed to be a kind of subtle reference to the fact that at the winter solstice, the daylight starts coming back, even though the story doesn't really take place around the winter solstice. ; Not that anyone would possibly come up with that on their own without me having to explain it. Ah well. Hooray for esoteric-ness. **

**Kharidish Glossary:  
amha - parent in the flesh (mother) (although I will occasionally use "father" in place of this term)  
kemmer - the stage in the Gethenian sexual cycle, when the beings become sexually active and develop a gender for a set period of time, generally a few days  
kemmering - lover  
secher - stage 1 of kemmer, hormonal release  
thorharmen - stage 2 of kemmer, establishing a sexuality  
Handara - a religious community  
Handaratta - inhabitants of the Handara**

**I know I fudged the ages a bit in this. Technically, Korcha and Sorve should be ten years apart in age at the VERY least, according to the novel's timeline. But I'm choosing to ignore that and mess with the ages a bit. I'm assuming that Korcha is around 17 or so. Call it poetic license. :P **  
------------------

As it turned out, the meeting I had been dreading had to be postponed.

I walked into my son's room the morning after our guest's arrival only to find him snuggled against the newcomer, in full female form. I was honestly a little taken aback. Not because he had chosen to sleep with Sorve; I trust his brother to take care of him, come to that. No, I was ashamed of myself. How had I not noticed that my son was about to enter his first kemmer? Had I really been so preoccupied with my own pain that I had missed the signs? I hadn't even really considered it; I still thought of him as a little boy. But he was a man now, truly. I returned to my room thoughtfully, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake them.

Needless to say, neither of them were much for conversation for the next few days.

But now their kemmer is over, and this strange youth sits in front of me with his dark eyes and his solemn manner. I don't know what to say to him. I dare say that Therem cared for him more than he cared for any of us.

"So what exactly do you want to know?" I ask.

"Just tell me about him," Sorve responds. "He wasn't around much, but he was your kemmering for seven years. You must know something."

I chuckle, though it doesn't really seem funny. I feel my heart clench. Why should I have known him? Simply because he was around? Having his body present never meant anything. His heart was absent, that was the problem. That was always the problem.

"I don't know what I can tell you. I don't know if anyone really knew Therem, except for his brother. All of Therem's secrets were wrapped up with Arek. That was a piece of himself that he never showed to anyone."

Sorve seizes on this scrap and leans forward. "What _do_ you know about my kemmering-father? He died when I was three."

"Well, not much," I admit. "All I know is that Therem vowed kemmering with Arek. When Therem became pregnant they refused to separate, and ran away from home. They lived on their own for a few years, until Arek died. I still don't know how that happened; I don't know if anyone knows, now that Therem's gone. But anyway, after he died, Therem gave the baby, you, I guess, to his father for keeping. And then he left. I don't think he could bear to live with the memories, to be honest."

Sorve is quiet, ruminating on this.

I find myself continuing, though I had not thought I had any more to say. "Honestly, if there was one thing that defined Therem, I think it was his pain over Arek. He guarded it so jealously. It was like a hidden core of his soul where only he dwelled. I always thought-" I feel myself choking slightly but press on past it "-I always thought that he must be very lonely. I just wanted to help him, to get rid of the loneliness. If only he had let me."

Sorve looks concerned, and I realize that I am becoming distressed. I force myself to calm down. "Other than that, Therem was a kind man. He cared a lot about things. He desired power but he was not controlled by it. He simply wanted to use it to improve people's lives. He was quite selfless that way." Even if he was so very selfish in other ways.

"You must have loved him very much," Sorve says softly.

That is honestly too much for me, and I feel the tears begin to slide down my cheeks. I nod in lieu of speaking.

Korcha enters the room softly, then pauses when he sees my tears. He comes to stand quietly behind Sorve's chair, his hand resting lightly on the back of it. "Are you alright Amha?" he asks.

I nod. "I'm fine, Korcha. Do not be worried." In truth, it troubles me now to see the way he stands so closely to his brother. I had thought nothing of it when they were kemmering, but is it possible that they will repeat the mistake of their common father? I try to find my voice to warn them, but find that there is nothing to say. There are no words that could prevent that catastrophe if it were to happen. There is no way to save them from pain, no way for them to learn but to experience it themselves. I am silent.

I stand to leave. Sorve looks like he wishes to stop me, but I wave him away.

"I will try to answer your questions more later," I tell him. I shoot a glance at Korcha, who seems happy that Sorve is finished with his business and will presumably have some free time. "I imagine you will be staying with us a while," I say. Korcha looks up at this, startled, then shoots me a curious expression. I try to smile encouragingly, but it feels more wistful. Korcha smiles back, understanding.

I leave them to their romance. The innocence of youth is not long-lasting, and should be left to flower in peace.

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	4. Chapter 4: Epilogue

Solstice  
Chapter 4 - Epilogue 

------------------  
**Notes/Disclaimer: "The Left Hand of Darkness" belongs to Ursula K. LeGuin. And an excellent piece of work it is. I am making no money from this work. **

**The title is supposed to be a kind of subtle reference to the fact that at the winter solstice, the daylight starts coming back, even though the story doesn't really take place around the winter solstice. ; Not that anyone would possibly come up with that on their own without me having to explain it. Ah well. Hooray for esoteric-ness. **

**Kharidish Glossary:  
amha - parent in the flesh (mother) (although I will occasionally use "father" in place of this term)  
kemmer - the stage in the Gethenian sexual cycle, when the beings become sexually active and develop a gender for a set period of time, generally a few days  
kemmering - lover  
secher - stage 1 of kemmer, hormonal release  
thorharmen - stage 2 of kemmer, establishing a sexuality  
Handara - a religious community  
Handaratta - inhabitants of the Handara**

**I know I fudged the ages a bit in this. Technically, Korcha and Sorve should be ten years apart in age at the VERY least, according to the novel's timeline. But I'm choosing to ignore that and mess with the ages a bit. I'm assuming that Korcha is around 17 or so. Call it poetic license. :P **  
------------------

I watch my love's face in the firelight as he watches his amha dance. In two years it has lost none of its softness, nor its beauty. In this time I have seen it in melancholy and in joy, in love and in pain.

I feel his pain with him. I know that he wants a child, desperately. But he refuses to even attempt a conception. He will not allow us to be torn apart. But I sit and I watch him and I wonder. How long before his longing for a child eclipses his need for even me? Are we doomed to repeat my amha's fate? I for one know that I could never give my Korcha up, not for anything. But even for me, the thought of a child...

He catches me watching him and flashes me a quick smile. My heart flutters slightly at the sight of it. I am perhaps a bit more emotional than usual right now; our kemmer is close. But even at the opposite end of the cycle, the sight of his smile can still weaken my knees. My dear, dear Korcha.

I turn my eyes back to the dance, watching as the Handaratta dance wildly about the fire. Such beauty in all of them, even the elders. Perhaps this is where Korcha gets his beauty. Even though we are merely returning for a visit, Korcha blends seamlessly into this world, as natural as the stone on which he sits.

I rise from my seat and make my way around the outside of the bonfire circle so as not to disturb the dancers. When I come to Korcha, I rest my chin lightly on his shoulder. He nuzzles easily against me.

"Having fun?" I murmur in his ear.

He smiles and raises a hand to stroke my hair. "Mm," he answers positively. I rest a hand against his waist.

"He looks very beautiful dancing," I say, glancing back at his amha.

Korcha pauses for a moment. "He looks... sad," he says finally.

I look back up at Ashe. Sad? I peer closely, but I cannot sense anything from him other than his beauty and his joy in the dance. "How so?" I ask.

Korcha does not look at me, but instead continues to stare at his amha. "He misses father. I can feel it. Look at his eyes. Can you not see the way they stare into the distance? As though he's looking for someone? It's like he's dancing for someone that none of us can see."

I take another look, and find that it is just as Korcha said. There is a distance in Ashe's eyes. He never looks at anyone in the circle, his empty eyes instead restless and searching. As though he were dancing with a ghost. A shiver creeps up my spine. I would not be surprised if spirits attended the Handara dances.

Korcha turns to me suddenly, with an intense expression.

"Promise me that you won't die and leave me," he whispers fiercely. "Promise that you won't leave me alone."

I'm a little taken aback by his intensity, but I try to answer as best I can. "Korcha, dearest, of course I would not like to die and leave you alone. But death is a natural part of life. Either you or I will die first, Korcha, and we cannot help that. All we can do is be together now and love now, in this moment that we have."

He hugs me fiercely then. "I will not let you go," he utters. "As long as I live, I shall never let you go."

I kiss him lightly to reassure him, then settle him into my arms. "While we both live, you shall never have to worry," I assure him.

The dancing flames from the bonfire leap in arcs of light and shadow across our bodies, warming us both.

- The End -

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